The Few, the Proud
by Inkspotsonmyheart
Summary: After earning her nursing degree, Éponine has followed Marius to Camp Pendleton, where he has been stationed after he has enlisted in the Marine Corps, U.S.A. But when the handsome Sergeant Enjolras is thrown her way, she finds herself in a place she never thought she would be. Rated M for possible sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

Éponine gaped in amazement as she looked around her, awestruck by the immensity of Camp Pendleton. As she drove down Interstate 5, she repeatedly thought, "This is all part of the base." Camp Pendleton was one of the largest Marine Corps bases in America. And starting Monday, Éponine Thenardier was going to be working there. She rolled up to the gate, and a scary looking Marine asked for her driver's license. She showed it to him, and got out her map of Camp Pendleton. She saw the hospital on base where she would be working, and the general area where her apartment was. She made the turn to get there, and as she stopped at a light, a huge brown military Hummer pulled up beside her. She looked up at it from her little Nissan Sentra and sighed. "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," she muttered to herself. The light turned green, and she arrived at what would be her new home. Se pulled into the driveway, and got out of her car. She appraised the apartment. "It sure beats Chez Thenardier," she thought bitterly. The apartment looked a little small, but anything was better than the house Éponine grew up in. She had arrived before the movers, so she fished her key from the bottom of her purse, and unlocked the door. The apartment was all white paint and light wood floors. She was going to have to fix that. A little paint and her furniture, and it would feel l  
Ike home in no time. She heard the movers pull up in the driveway behind her tiny, second hand car. They began taking her stuff out of the van. She didn't have much, but she scraped together enough to buy furniture on Craigslist and eBay. She also sold her furniture from home, and some old stuff from when her family took in a foster kid, a kid her age, when she was nine. Not out of the kindness of their hearts, not the Thenardiers, but for the money. Lucky for the kid, some guy sitting on a bunch of cash swooped in and took her off their hands.  
"Where do you want this?" one of the moving guys asked her, bringing her swiftly back to the present.  
"Down the hall, last door on the left," she directed him to her new bedroom. He grunted in reply and heaved the box down the hall.  
The moving process was tedious. Éponine wished she had someone to help her unpack. Her thoughts drifted to her ex, Montparnasse. He had been an ass, but he was the only person who actually cared about what happened to her. He had tried tirelessly to dissuade her from moving so far away. But she wanted to escape too badly, and she didn't really care about him. At least she told herself she wanted to escape. She knew that wasn't really the reason, though. Her best friend, and long time crush, Marius Pontmercy, had decided to enlist in the Marines when he finished his degree, much to his parents' chagrin. She was finishing her nursing degree, and after she found out that he was going to be stationed at Camp Pendleton, she applied for a nursing position at the hospital on base. She was overjoyed when she got the job, as was Marius, though a little confused as to her motive. She told him that she wanted to get as far away as she could from the slums of New Orleans, and that she didn't have any plans after she finished her degree, anyway. He was so blind to her affection that he swallowed the lie like a pill. She thought of asking Marius if he would help her unpack. He lived in the barracks with he other single Marines, not far from her apartment. She sent him a text.

" hey u free tonight? need help unpacking."

He replied almost instantly.  
" yeah. mind if i bring friends?"

Éponine wasn't surprised he had made friends. Nine weeks of boot camp brought people together on ways she would never understand.

"the more the merrier. see u at 5."

Éponine heard a knock at the door. She checked her phone for the time. 4:55. She smirked to herself. She went to open the door to see Marius's face smiling brightly at her.  
"Hey, 'Ponine," he said happily as he enveloped her in one of his warm Marius hugs. Neither of them had made a big deal of it on the phone, but this was the first time they had seen each other since he had left for boot camp. He held her tightly in his arms, not long enough. They pulled apart and Marius began to introduce her to his friends. They all went by last names; there was Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Bossuet, Feuilly, Combeferre, Jehan...and then there was Enjolras. Enjolras was strikingly good looking. His blue eyes, blonde hair, and pale complexion that many girls would trade their soul for paired with his chiseled features and muscular physique made him look god like, as though he has been carved out of marble itself. It certainly was distracting. Among all Marius's friends, Enjolras was the most reserved. Where Grantaire had given her a drunken kiss on the cheek as they were introduced, Enjolras barely shook her hand. She invited them in and gave them all jobs to do, promising beer and food as their reward. As they all scuttled around her house putting her things away, she found that each of them was quite a character. Grantaire was playful, teasing Éponine whenever he got the chance. Jehan, she found, in his spare time, was a poet. He was quiet and very shy around her. She assured him she wouldn't bite him, and he blushed. Courfeyrac was shamelessly flirtatious, and took every opportunity to give her a compliment or brush up against her arm or her back, or something else. Combeferre was chivalrous to a fault, refusing to let Éponine carry anything heavy and opening doors for her. Of course, they all did that, but more because they hadn't been around a woman for nine weeks than because she deserved it. The subject came up with Marius while putting books on her bookshelf that was too small for the amount of books she had. He and Courfeyrac had moved her bookshelf to the perfect little corner, and neither would let her carry any of the boxes. They began unpacking the boxes.  
"Why are you all so damn chivalrous? I can carry my own stupid boxes."  
Marius laughed. "It's not about some boxes, 'Ponine. They like you."  
It was Éponine's turn to laugh. "They barely know me. Besides, don't any of them have girlfriends?"  
"Right, because we had so much time to go gallivanting off with girls in boot camp."  
Éponine laughed. If anyone else had said that, she'd have been annoyed.  
"I'm sure they've had opportunities since you got back. You're telling me you have seen one female person in nine weeks?"  
"Seen, yes, but there are very few opportunities to talk with a woman in a strip club."  
"OH EW" Éponine exclaimed. She heard Courfeyrac laugh from what would be the kitchen. Marius chortled. For all she was worth, she couldn't picture him in a strip club. Or Enjolras, for that matter.  
"I can't really see Enjolras going to a strip club," Éponine giggled.  
"Oh he didn't go. He's not really into all that." Marius said carefully.  
"What, women? Or sex? Or both?"  
"Um...I don't really know. See, he's never really been interested in anyone. Men, women, he looks at them all the same. He says his only love is for his country. He's been a Marine longer than any of us, two years I think. He reenlisted."  
"So he wasn't at boot camp with you?"  
"Nah, we met him through Combeferre, they're like best friends and roommates. He's a cool guy, didn't mind hanging around all us lowly privates. He's really dedicated, really patriotic."  
"Wait, he's not a private?"  
"He's a sergeant. Got promoted really fast. Then again, I guess he would. He's married to his job."  
"Who is?" Combeferre asked as he and Enjolras came into the living room with more boxes.  
"Oh, uh...we were just, uh, talking about, um..." Éponine stammered  
"General Javert." Marius put in quickly.  
"Oh he's a beast. Meanest officer on the face of the Earth." Combeferre said  
"If boot camp is hell, Javert is the devil." Courfeyrac had joined in their conversation.  
"He's just devoted to his job and to his country. I think his devotion is admirable." Enjolras spoke for the first time, really spoke instead of just "yes" and "no".  
"Of course you think that. You're a miniature Javert." Grantaire joked, entering the room via the kitchen.  
"Who's miniature?" Enjolras growled. Éponine couldn't help herself. She laughed along with the other men.

Éponine was putting away her silverware when she heard the loud crash followed by expletive coming from the living room. Enjolras and Combeferre had taken it upon themselves to set up her crappy T.V. But something happened and the T.V had fallen, landing on Enjolras's foot. Grantaire and Combeferre were frantically lifting the T.V off of his foot, but there was blood all over her new floor. The corner of the infernal device had cut his foot.  
"Enjolras, you're going to need to get your weight off that foot," Éponine said gently as she led him to the couch. "Will someone go get the first aid kit? It should be in the kitchen in one of the boxes." Marius ran out and returned with a white box with a Red Cross on the front. She opened it and got out the gauze pads. She dabbed the wound with Bactine before applying the gauze pad to the wound.  
"Will you just hold that there for me?" she asked, and looked up to find him staring intently at her. She tried not to blush, and tried not to notice that everyone else had left the room. He nodded and his fingers replaced hers on the gauze. It was bleeding through. She grabbed another gauze pad and lifted his fingers off the pad without thinking. His hands were surprisingly gentle. She had expected them to be hard, rough, callused. They were soft, and quite gentle. He did not flinch away from the contact. Instead, he asked, "Do you do this kind of thing often?"  
She blinked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry?"  
"It's just that you seem fairly experienced," Enjolras reiterated himself. That's when she realized he was talking about his injury.  
"Oh yes, I'm a nurse," she said, slightly embarrassed at herself. She placed the second gauze pad down and began wrapping more gauze around it to hold the pads in place.  
"So you'll be working at the hospital?" he inquired.  
"Yep. I start on Monday," she said proudly. Part of her still couldn't believe that Éponine Thenardier, the girl who everyone said would amount to nothing, had a real job and a real house. Well, apartment. But still.  
"Congratulations," he replied. "You'll be working under some of the best doctors I know."  
"You must know a lot, if this," she motioned to his foot, "is a regular occurrence."  
Enjolras huffed. "It wasn't my fault. Combeferre stumbled over something and lost his balance."  
Éponine laughed. "Do you have any idea how you just sounded?"  
Enjolras looked indignant for a moment, then he thought about it, and the right side of his mouth curved up in a boyish half smile. It was sexy.  
"Sorry, I'm not used to being babied," he explained. "I don't think I like it."  
"Because it makes you look weak?" Éponine blurted out before she could think. Immediately, she apologized. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't even thinking about what I was saying."  
Enjolras's half smile was replaced by a look of surprise, but that look was replaced by a look of entertainment. He surprised her by saying, "It's the soldier mentality, I suppose. Although I can't say that I would like being babied even if I wasn't in the Marines."  
Éponine nodded. She understood the desire to be self sufficient. "I get that," she replied.  
He looked surprised again. "You do?"  
Éponine laughed at his shock. "Why the tone of surprise?"  
"Well, I just thought women liked to be taken care of. It didn't occur to me-"  
"What didn't occur to you? That independence could be a feminine quality? That all women need a man in their life to look after them?" Éponine bristled.  
"That wasn't what I was going to say." Enjolras replied, although it was.  
"Then what were you going to say?" Éponine asked skeptically.  
Enjolras tried to think of something that would keep her at bay, but came up blank. Éponine smirked. "That's what I thought. You know nothing about women, do you?"  
It was Enjolras's turn to bristle. "I know all that I need to know."  
"Right. You think all women are needy, selfish creatures. It didn't even occur to you that we're not all the same."  
Enjolras had no reply to this, because, well, it was true. But Éponine remembered Marius's description of him and softened. "Have you known many women, Enjolras?"  
Enjolras was taken aback. He knew it was common knowledge amongst his friends that he wasn't interested in pursuing romantic relationships, not because he had anything against them, simply because he thought they were a waste of time.  
"I had three sisters," he replied.  
"Of course your sisters are all the same, because they're sisters. I mean have you ever had female friends, or I don't know, a girlfriend?"  
"I don't think this is any of your business," he answered, irritated.  
"I guess that means I win." Éponine replied. She had learned how to read people from her father's many shady encounters with his gang. She had good instincts about what they were likely to do, and she knew Enjolras would want the last word.  
"You win? Who sounds childish now?" he taunted.  
"You, for avoiding women as if they have cooties."  
"No one has said that word since middle school."  
"Sounds like it's in your everyday vernacular."  
Enjolras glowered. Éponine laughed and said, "I'm done. You're going to want to stay off that foot for a while. I'm going to order pizza. Want a beer?" she asked. She decided she liked Enjolras. He was a little narrow minded, but he was nice enough, an interesting conversationalist, and God was he hot. Meanwhile, Enjolras found himself relieved that his conversation with Éponine, but also slightly disappointed. She was impossible, but she was also intelligent, had strong opinions, and clearly was not afraid to share them. He could appreciate those qualities. But for all her talk of independence, he could not fathom why she attached herself to Marius so tightly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! Xoxo! **

**CHAPTER TWO**

Éponine woke up Sunday morning at 9:00 a little hungover. She hadn't meant to drink as much as she did, even though she had only gotten tipsy, and not full on drunk. She somehow didn't think it would be as much fun if she was, and she wanted to wake up and remember everything, from Grantaire's drunken flirting to Jehan's really crappy drunk poetry. She had been so caught up the past few months getting everything in order for the move, that she hadn't done anything fun. She would have to do it again soon. As this thought came to her mind, her stomach growled loudly. She realized she didn't have any groceries, and she didn't want to cook this morning. She couldn't shower, because she didn't have any soap or shampoo. She put her hair in a ponytail, threw on some sweats, and hopped in her car. She decided to go into town and get breakfast before she did anything else. She left base and drove aimlessly around, looking for an inexpensive restaurant, or a café, perhaps. She spotted a little café on the corner, and seeing the name of the café, decided to stop there. Café Musain was a small place with wood furnishings and little couches. The cashier was bustling around behind the counter doing this and that. When she saw Éponine, a friendly smile broke out on her face, and she said, "Hello, welcome to Café Musain. What can I get for you this morning?" Her name tag read "Musichetta". "That's a pretty name," Éponine thought to herself. She sympathized with anyone who had an unusual name, as she knew what it was like to be the only kid in your class with a non-American name.  
"Can I get a vanilla latte and a slice of the coffee cake?"  
"Sure," she said brightly. "We make it fresh everyday."  
She handed Éponine the cake and she paid her. She took a bite of the coffee cake. It was delicious.  
"Hey this is really good!" she exclaimed ungracefully with her mouth full. "Can I get your recipe?"  
Musichetta laughed at her exclamation. "Absolutely," Musichetta replied, "just do the recipe in the back of the Folger's can, but add a quarter teaspoon of butter, a splash of vanilla, and a shot of Bailey's Irish Cream," she winked as she told Éponine the last ingredient. She laughed and remembered the name of this café, so that she could come back. She introduced herself. "I'm Éponine, I just moved on base."  
"Musichetta. I live on base with my husband. He works at the hospital."  
"Really? I'm starting my job at the hospital tomorrow! I'm a nurse."  
"Quelle coïncidence!" Musichetta's French reminded Éponine of home. She was about to reply when the bell on the door rings. Musichetta looked over Éponine's shoulder and called, "Hey, Enjolras. The usual?"  
Éponine whirled around to see Enjolras walk into the café in all his sexy glory. He throws a smile at Musichetta and says, "Yes please."  
Éponine approached Enjolras and said patronizingly, "I thought you didn't have any female friends."  
Enjolras frowned. He hadn't really thought of Musichetta as a friend, merely someone he saw everyday. She was part of the Café Musain. But he supposed, for lack of a better word, they were friends.  
"I never said that," he replied. And it was true, he hadn't. But it was implied.  
Éponine sighed. "You're impossible, Monsieur."  
Enjolras merely laughed. "I'm impossible? I think you have that the wrong way around, Mademoiselle." Enjolras's French accent was impeccable, bien sur.  
"Vanilla latte" Musichetta called from behind the counter. She smiled and said, "Enjoy."  
She finished her coffee cake and sipped her latte, wondering if she could find an excuse to stay. The she remembered. "I thought I told you to stay off that foot." Éponine glanced down and sighed. He was going to make it worse. He protested, saying, "I'm fine. It barely even hurts."  
"If you would stay off of it like I told you to, it wouldn't hurt at all."  
"Ah, but how can I break tradition and miss a morning with the lovely Musichetta?" Musichetta heard this and smiled sweetly. "Shut up, Enjolras. You know you only come here for my coffee cake," her words contrasted with her sunny expression, making her accusation rather comical.  
"Ah, but it is lovely coffee cake," Enjolras countered.  
Éponine agreed. "I'll drink to that," she said as she raised her coffee to her lips. She knew that she would probably not be able to find another excuse to stay, so she begun to leave. But Enjolras stopped her by grabbing her arm. "You're leaving?" Catching Éponine off guard, she said, "Yeah I have to go buy stuff. But," she said, fishing a pen out of her bag and uncapping it, "here's my number. You know, in case anything irregular should happen to that foot." As she scrawled her cell number across his palm, she felt the surprise again, the surprise at how gentle his hands were. She still expected them to be rough. She recapped the pen and left, giving Musichetta a friendly smile, and promising to come back soon.  
Éponine cursed herself for being so forward in the café. She didn't know why she was acting this way. She was fully in love with Marius, and he was the only one she had ever loved in that way. Perhaps it was his good looks. Éponine had always been a sucker for a pretty face, and Enjolras had one if she'd ever seen one. Besides, Éponine hadn't gotten laid in...forever. She actually couldn't remember the last time she'd had sex with someone. "Yikes," she thought.

She arrived at the supermarket, since she couldn't shop at the commissary on base. As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw Marius's black BMW. She grinned to herself. He certainly wasn't hurting for money. The car had been a graduation present from his loaded grandfather. Yet he still insisted that he "wouldn't take a penny he hadn't earned." She smirked to herself as she remembered the way he'd said that. His chest puffed indignantly out, almost like a turkey, and his eyes burned into hers. She hadn't dared to laugh, but later the mental image had made her giggle. She walked into the supermarket, looking for Marius more than she was looking for the dairy aisle. She found him browsing the dish soaps. Éponine smirked. He had never lived on his own before, and now he'd been thrown to the wolves. Poor baby. She grabbed a box of dish soap off of the shelf and teased, "Know how to use a dishwasher, Pontmercy?"  
Marius blushed. "Of course I do. Contrary to popular opinion, I haven't lived the sheltered life."  
"Opinion?" Éponine contradicted, "That is a well known fact. It's easy, really. All you have to do, is..." She began explaining how to run a dishwasher runs, when she noticed he was no longer listening. She looked up at him, and saw that he was staring at something. She followed his gaze, and a moment later she was sorry she had. A young woman, certainly no older than Éponine, was standing a few feet away, looking at laundry detergent. She had long blonde hair, and was sporting a soft pink cardigan with a teal skirt and wedges. Marius gazed at her, even though with his upbringing, he knew that staring was impolite. She happened to glance in his direction, when she noticed he was staring. He smiled, and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Marius muttered, "Be right back, 'Ponine." And began walking towards her. But just then, an older man in a wheelchair at the end of the aisle cried, "Cosette!" The smile on her irritatingly lovely face dropped, and she turned and walked away, towards the man, and she wheeled him to the checkout. Marius's face was despondent. He turned to Éponine, looking desperate. "I didn't even find out her name." He sounded so sad, Éponine almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Then, he brightened, as if he had gotten some brilliant idea.  
"Éponine," he said in barely more than a whisper, "will you follow her for me? Find out where she lives. I have to know."  
Éponine gaped in astonishment. "I can't stalk her for you, Marius. If you want to be a creeper, I will have none of it." She was about to walk away, when Marius grabbed her arm.  
"Please, 'Ponine. I'm lost until she's found."  
Éponine jerked her arm away. Damn him. Damn him and his romantic sensibilities, and his stupid charm.  
"Fine," she growled. His face broke out in the happiest grin she had ever seen him wear. Her heart sank. He was happy, but not because of her. He scooped her up in a massive hug and said, "Oh thank you, 'Ponine! You're the best friend a guy could want!" "Not quite," she thought sourly.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! So I've been writing up a stothis because the last chapter was kinda short and I wanted to make it up to y'all. Ily xoxo.

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Damn it all, son of a bitch." Éponine cursed as she walked out of the supermarket, keeping tabs on the old man and girl in front of her. She wanted to kick herself for being so stupid. No self respecting woman would have done this. No self respecting human being would have done this. Then again, Éponine's self respect was in short supply. She knew that Marius deserved a girl like Cosette, not her. He deserved a girl who was everything she was not. He deserved a girl who had a good job that didn't involve sleeping with gang members for money. He deserved a girl who was beautiful and cheerful, and...everything Éponine was not. She got in her car, never taking her eyes off that frustratingly attractive girl. She slammed the door behind her, holding back sobs. Her chest began heaving uncomfortably, but she refused to let herself cry. Marius had had flings before, girlfriends even. He would swear up and down that he was in love, that he would marry the girl, but he never did. Before long, he would always move on. The first time, Éponine was devastated. The second time, Éponine was crushed. By the third time, she had grown accustomed to this cycle, but she reacted the same way every time. Her heart would feel like it was breaking into a million pieces, and then when they broke up, a new hope would spring up inside her, the hope that she would be next, and that he would realize that she was the one he'd been searching for all along. Éponine was growing tired of this endless cycle. She couldn't stand the hurt anymore, but she couldn't just walk away. Marius was the first man to look at her and really see her as a human being, rather than a piece of meat. He was the first to see her true value as a person, and tried tirelessly to make her see it too. But she had never looked away from him. Sure, she had fooled around with other guys, and of course there was her...job on the side. The only way she could afford to pay the rest of her tuition. She had received a sizable scholarship to go to Loyola, New Orleans, but it hadn't been a full ride. So she had to make ends meet by selling her body. However, Marius was still the lone beacon of hope in her dark, dark life. But it was like a light at the end of the tunnel, and the tunnel was never ending.

She followed the girl's car and when she found out her address, she texted Marius.

"55 Plumet street. U owe me one."

As always, he replied immediately.

"I owe you way more than one. Thx ily."

Éponine sighed. The casual use of that particular acronym made her want to cry all over again. She didn't bother to reply to his message. Instead, she turned her car around and went back to the grocery store. She hadn't bought anything from there, because of their little encounter with Malibu Barbie. She went back to find her parking space still open. She walked into the supermarket and bought everything she would need, buying only the cheapest products, not bothering to browse, just wanting to go home and finish unpacking and try to get her mind off of the day's events. As soon as she got home, she didn't bother to put away her groceries. She just plopped them in the kitchen counter and flopped down on the couch. She turned on the T.V, and smirked as she wondered if that corner of it still had Enjolras's blood on it. She got up to look, but it did not. The blood stain, however, was still prominent on her light wood floor. She knew she really should bleach that stain, and then she cursed herself for not getting bleach at the store. Then she remembered she had shampoo and soap. She hopped up, significantly energized by the thought of a shower. She went to the freshly stocked linen closet and got her softest towel. "I deserve it," she thought.  
As the hot water beat down on her back, Éponine began to think. She had gone all this time keeping this secret from him, and she couldn't very well do anything about her feelings if he didn't know them, now could she? Perhaps he would change his mind if he knew. Perhaps he felt the same way, and just never had the courage to tell her. He always had been shy for a guy, after all. And when he felt something, he felt it deeply. So when he was embarrassed or hurt, he was really hurt. And unlike many men she knew, he was very in touch with his feelings. He always knew what he was feeling, and dealt with it in the most constructive way possible. That was another thing she loved about him. One of many. She sighed as she turned the water off, feeling hopeless. She knew she shouldn't let her imagination get away with itself like that, but she couldn't help it. She often dreamed about being in his arms, dreams that were so real she would almost swear he was really there, and then be disappointed she she woke up and he was not. Suddenly, she heard her phone ring.

Enjolras, Grantaire, and Combeferre were sitting around Enjolras and Combeferre's room when Grantaire spotted it.  
"What's that on your hand?" Grantaire was about to grab Enjolras's hand, but he jerked it away.  
"None of your damn business, that's what it is." Enjolras said, indignant.  
"Looked like a phone number to me." Grantaire said accusingly. When Enjolras made no reply, he said, "Oh my god, it is a phone number! Whose number is it? I bet it's Éponine's."  
"I said it's none of your business, R." Enjolras was quite annoyed now.  
"Oh yeah, it's Éponine's. Your face says it all," Grantaire said with a chuckle.  
Combeferre saw the opportunity to chime in and took it. "Grantaire, for Christ's sake, he's a grown man. He can do what he wants, and it's nobody's business but his."  
"And Éponine's, apparently."  
"Grantaire," Enjolras growled, "Shut. Up."  
"Well, if you're not going to call her, at least give me her number." Grantaire said. Combeferre looked at him incredulously. Grantaire shrugged and said, "Oh please, like you didn't think she was hot. Let's face it, anyone who didn't flirt with that girl is gay."  
"Who's gay?" asked Courfeyrac as he entered the room with four beers.  
"Apparently, not Enjolras," Grantaire smirked.  
"GRANTAIRE," Enjolras and Combeferre shouted at the same time, while Courfeyrac laughed.  
"How do we know that he's not gay?" Courfeyrac inquired. Even Enjolras's icy glare couldn't stop Grantaire from answering.  
"He got Éponine's number," Grantaire said enthusiastically. "But he hasn't called her yet."  
Courfeyrac looked astounded. "Why the fuck not?" All eyes turned to Enjolras, waiting for him to answer. He shrugged.  
"In case you all haven't noticed, she's got it bad for Pontmercy."  
"Never stopped me," Courfeyrac smirked.  
Enjolras sighed. "She told me only to call in case something went wrong with my foot."  
Combeferre looked skeptical. "What we're her exact words?"  
Enjolras thought about it. " 'Here's my number, in case anything irregular should happen to that foot.' " His friends suppressed laughter as he spoke. He had even remembered her intonation as she'd spoken. He also remembered the playful glint in her eye, and the her slight sarcasm, as though saying, "Just call me, you idiot," with her eyes. He sighed, knowing he really didn't have an excuse to call her.  
"Fine," he growled, picking up the phone and looking at his hand.  
"Wait, seriously?" asked Grantaire in astonishment. "That's it? A couple gay jokes, and suddenly Enjolras discovers his inner ladies' man?"  
"Shut up, R, before he changes his mind," Combeferre chided.  
"I wouldn't mind if he did," said Courfeyrac. Enjolras glowered.  
The phone rang once. Twice. A third time. On the fourth ring, Éponine's familiar voice breezed, "Hello?"  
Enjolras's breath hitched in his throat. He had never done this before. He tried to think of something to say, anything at all. The words just wouldn't come. He thought about faking an infected foot, but before he could get the words out, Grantaire snatched the phone, and shouted shamelessly, "Hey there, sexy bitch!"  
Éponine's laughter was audible even to Enjolras. He made a grab for the phone, but the drunk was surprisingly agile as he narrowly avoided his friend.  
"Go home, Grantaire. You're drunk." Éponine chided the Marine gently.  
"I will. Your home." He tried to sound seductive, but he just sounded smashed as his words slurred. Éponine laughed again before asking, "Wait, how did you get my number?"  
"Enjolras tried to call you, but he choked, so I saved him from embarrassment."  
The man himself was fuming, trying fruitlessly to get his phone back, but Grantaire was quick, even when intoxicated, which was always. Saved from embarrassment, indeed.  
"Will you put him on, Grantaire?" Éponine asked politely.  
"Sure thing, angel." He held the phone out to Enjolras and mouthed, "She wants the D."  
Enjolras punched Grantaire in the shoulder "playfully", and began apologizing immediately.  
"Éponine I am so sorry about-" but he was cut off almost instantly.  
"Don't apologize, it's totally fine. I was hoping you would call."  
Enjolras was taken aback. "You were?"  
Éponine giggled at his surprise. "The dressing on your foot needs to be changed. Do you mind coming over tonight?"  
He was surprised yet again by her forwardness. "Um, sure. What time?"  
When his friends heard this, they exchanged high fives. Enjolras tried to silence them with a glare, but was unsuccessful.  
"Whatever time works. I'll just be around, unpacking."  
"Okay, I'll be around in about half an hour," Enjolras replied.  
"Awesome! See you soon." Éponine hung up.  
After he'd hung up the phone, thank goodness, Grantaire stuck his head out of the door and shouted, "SERGEANT ENJOLRAS IS GETTING LAID TONIGHT!"


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I really enjoyed writing the last few chapters, so I hope you all enjoy them too! Ciao bella! Xoxo

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Enjolras arrived at Éponine's apartment at 5:30 sharp. As he walked up to the door, he smelled something delightful. He thought it smelled like chicken. He knocked and heard Éponine's voice. "It's unlocked!"  
He stepped inside and called back, "You know, you really shouldn't just leave your door unlocked like that. Do you even know what the crime rate is around here?"  
Éponine laughed. "I'm not afraid of anyone who could be deterred by a locked door."  
Enjolras whistled. "Wow that's a big word."  
"I went to college, I know my shit," Éponine retorted.  
Enjolras laughed. "Never said you didn't. Are you cooking?"  
Éponine gave him a look. "No, I'm windsurfing."  
"Woah, hey, all I did was ask a question. Whatcha making?"  
"Turkey burgers with onion gravy and mashed potatoes. I just have to put the potatoes on and then I can take care of your foot."  
Enjolras was slightly disappointed that she was getting right down to business. He had hoped he could find some way to stall her, or she would find a way herself. He surprised himself at thinking this. Why did he want to spend more time with her? He couldn't understand it. Although apparently his friends could. He internally glowered at his friends' testosterone-fueled reasoning. In the back of his mind, though, a little voice piped up. "It's possible they're right. After all, you are only human." Enjolras studied Éponine as she scuttled around the kitchen, adding this and that to the pan on the stove. She really was quite pretty, he couldn't deny that. Even in her T-shirts and jeans, her prettiness couldn't be concealed. She didn't wear much makeup, for a girl her age. He supposed she would be about 22, since she had just graduated. Most 22 year old women he knew would be cakes in the stuff. He almost laughed at himself for thinking that last thought. He didn't exactly have a lot to compare her with, did he? Musichetta really didn't count, because even after several years of seeing her every single Sunday morning, he couldn't for the life of him remember whether she wore makeup or not. He hadn't realized, being caught up in his thoughts, that he had been staring unabashedly at Éponine. He was brought back to reality to find Éponine staring at him equally as unabashed.  
"You know, a picture would last longer." She giggled as he blushed.  
"I'm sorry, I wasn't really thinking. Well I was, too much. So I didn't realize-" she cut him off.  
"It's ok, you don't need to make excuses. I do that all the time. Can we move out to the couch? You need to be able to stretch out your foot."  
He complied, though he did not like it when she cut him off like that. Enjolras moved to the brown leather sofa in the living room, and obediently put his foot up. She began unwrapping the bandages. Enjolras noted how careful she was, and how nimble and gentle her fingers were. He decided he could trust her with his injured foot, and relaxed visibly. Éponine chuckled when she saw the tension disappear from his face.  
"Trust me, I'm a nurse. I'm not going to hurt you."  
"I know," said Enjolras, "but once you take the gauze off, won't the wound reopen?"  
"No, I put disinfectant on it. It makes a barrier between your skin and the bandage, so that the wound doesn't reopen when I change the bandage."  
Her voice was calm and reassuring. Did they teach that in nursing school? She removed the gauze and smiled proudly.  
"I am happy to report that the wound has not gotten infected."  
Enjolras wasn't afraid that it had been. Éponine's sure fingers had deftly covered the injury last night, and it had stopped bleeding quickly.  
"It's all thanks to you. I have to admit, you're good."  
"Lots of practice," she said wistfully. Enjolras frowned. Why would she sound wistful? You have to practice dressing wounds in nursing school, didnt you? Unless...but Enjolras didn't want to pry. Éponine was clearly a private person, and like him, if she wanted him to know something, she'd tell him. Éponine looked up at his confusion.  
"I didn't exactly grow up in the most stable household." Éponine said hesitantly.  
Enjolras nodded, sympathetic, yet trying to hide his alarm. Was she insinuating what he thought she was?  
"Were you...abused as a child?" he asked tentatively, almost expecting a rebuttal. No, really expecting a rebuttal. If someone had asked him that, he would be angry at them for prying. Éponine did look angry for a moment, but her face softened. Curiosity was human nature.  
"Yes. And so was my sister. Growing up, I found myself treating a lot of injuries, both hers and mine. My brother, when he's home, gets the worst of it. I suppose my father thinks he's teaching him how to be tough, how to...be a man." Éponine found herself telling Enjolras more than she had meant to. She looked up and scowled. "I'm not telling you this because I want your pity."  
Enjolras knew that. "I don't believe in pity. Pity implies inferiority, and I don't believe in that either."  
Éponine found herself surprised, yet again, at this man. Just when she thought she had him figured out. She began to doubt she would ever figure out this enigma of a man.  
"I would love to believe that, but after being a charity case for most of my life, you can see how I might doubt you."  
"I would be surprised if you didn't, especially considering your ordeal. But it's true, and I wouldn't have said it if it weren't."  
Éponine looked skeptically at Enjolras. If it had been any other man, she might have thought he was saying these things just to get her into bed, but seeing as this was him, she supposed he was sincere. Enjolras saw her skepticism, but he had always been persuasive.  
"We live in a world where people look at each other and see price tags and brand names instead of hearts, souls, emotions, personality. I don't believe money, or lack thereof, should define what we see in each other as human beings. You're not rich, but you're also bright, independent, and clever. It's not your social standing that defines you. This is going to sound corny, but it's what's on the inside that counts."  
He was right, it did sound corny. But it was sweet, and no one had ever said anything like that to her before. Not even Marius.  
She studied him for a minute before saying, "How did someone like you end up in the Marines? You could have been a lawyer, or a politician even. You could still have served your country. Why this way?"  
He thought for a moment. "I don't know how to put it in a way you'll understand. See, I love our country. I love everything it stands for. Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. The idea of serving and protecting others, people I don't even know, and probably never will know, many of whom I probably wouldn't get along with, it just...it makes me feel like I'm doing something. Making a difference. You know?"  
"Yeah I do. You're saving lives, in your own way. Just like me." Éponine saw the glimmer in his eyes when he talked about their country, and serving others. He was so passionate about it, just like her. Perhaps they had more in common than she realized at first. Enjolras's eyes lit up as the words escaped her mouth.  
"Yes, that's exactly it." Enjolras was amazed that she actually got it.  
"There's nothing complicated about that. You made it sound so complex." She rolled her eyes at him. He hadn't noticed, because of her deft, nimble fingers, that she was almost finished with his bandaging. He frowned. He was going to have to injure his other foot.  
Éponine looked up and saw Enjolras's frown. How do you look sexy even when you're frowning? God, he was attractive. That's when Éponine got a great idea.  
"You know, I definitely made enough for two. Would you like to stay for dinner?"  
Enjolras looked surprised, then gave her that sexy half smile. "I would be honored."  
Éponine grinned. "Good. I can make sure you stay off that foot, at least for a little while."

Enjolras devoured Éponine's cooking in minutes, and even asked for seconds. It seemed like years since he'd had a good old fashioned, home cooked meal. Even if he had, he'd never tasted anything quite like Éponine's cooking. If the boys knew about this, they might be here every night. Enjolras decided to keep this his little secret. It couldn't have been much of a secret, though, because Marius must know about it, and he was not exactly the most tight-lipped of people. Still, he hadn't said anything, and he wanted to make it his secret, for as long as it would stay a secret. He somehow enjoyed the idea of sharing a secret with Éponine, though it wasn't much of a secret. He liked the idea of sharing anything with Éponine. He stopped himself, before these thoughts could go any further. "What's the matter with you Enjolras? Pull yourself together; this isn't you," he thought to himself. Maybe it was the food. No, it couldn't have been. The food had been gone for some time, and still, there they were, sitting and talking like old friends and sipping their wine, making witty quips, and Éponine laughing when he tried to be witty and failed terribly. Enjolras sighed. He had to be at work tomorrow at 8 sharp. He looked at his watch. It was 9:00. He had been there for three and a half hours? Surely not. He checked it again. Sure enough, 9:00. He quickly rose from his chair, perhaps too quickly, and swayed for a minute before regaining his balance. He hadn't drank that much, had he? A sharp stab of pain came from his foot, and he winced. Éponine was by his side in a flash.  
"You've had more to drink than I thought. I'll drive you home," Éponine offered.  
"No, it's okay, I'll be fine," but even as he said that, he could hear his own words slur a bit. Éponine insisted,  
"No, you won't. Friends don't let friends drive drunk."  
"Are we friends, Éponine?" Enjolras asked, emboldened by the alcohol.  
"Of course we are, Enjolras." Éponine said. "Now come on, get in the car."  
Enjolras clumsily climbed into Éponine's Nissan. As he directed her to the section of the barracks where he lived, he purposely took her the long way around. He suspected she knew, but she said nothing. When they arrived, he said, "Thanks, Éponine. You're a pal," and to Éponine's surprise, went to plant a kiss on her lips. Being drunk, he accidentally missed and the kiss landed adorably on her nose. Embarrassed, he scrambled out of the car, half sprinting to the door. Éponine just sat in her car for a moment, shell shocked. When she finally managed to start the ignition, she blushed all the way home.


	5. Chapter 5

Aaaaaaahhhh OMG I love you guys so much! Your reviews make me so happy :D More Enjolras/Éponine interaction this chapter, but don't worry, you'll get your fill of les Amis next chapter. Thank you all so much for your reviews, follows, favorites, critiques, and just your amazingness in general! ILY 3 3

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Éponine was still in a daze when she arrived home. She hasn't been anywhere near as drunk as Enjolras had been, but after that kiss, she could barely walk in a straight line. Her head spun, though she wasn't sure if it was from Enjolras or from the wine. Maybe it was both. She flopped down on her bed, her mind racing. She loved Marius. Of that, she was certain. She always had, almost from day one. But Enjolras...he was something else. Passionate, witty, dedicated, a gentleman, charismatic, sexy...and not interested. Éponine knew that whatever this was she had for Enjolras, it was thoroughly one sided, making him no different than Marius. Or was he? That kiss certainly hadn't felt one sided. With Marius, Éponine had always wanted to be different, the one girl that could hold his interest. In a way, she was. Marius didn't have any other female friends. At least, not close ones. But then, neither did Enjolras. She rolled over, frustrated. She wouldn't need to choose between them, because neither one was an option. However, the little voice in the back of her head begged to differ. "You saw the way he stared at you yesterday when you were wrapping his foot. And then again, while you were cooking. Tell me, is that one sided?" She wanted to tell the little voice to shove it. It was one kiss, and he was drunk. He probably wouldn't even remember it in the morning. She looked at the clock on her nightstand. 9:30. She had work in the morning, and needed sleep. Without so much as changing her clothes, Éponine drifted off into a slumber full of blue eyes and golden curls.

Éponine's alarm clock went off at 7:00 AM. She quickly rose, knowing she had to be in by 8, and wanted to leave time for delays. She quickly showered and dressed, and was out the door by 7:30. She drove up to the hospital, using the staff entrance as the lady on the phone had told her. She was supposed to meet a Dr. Joly in his office on...wherever it was. She went inside and asked the front desk, and she pointed Éponine in the right direction. She went inside Dr. Joly's office to find the man himself, sitting in a large swivel chair and looking over important looking documents. She cleared her throat, and he looked up. He gave her a jovial smile and rose out of his chair to greet her. "Hello, I'm Dr. Joly. Pleased to make your aquaintance."  
"Likewise." She looked him up and down. He was very young to have such prestige in the hospital. He had one of the larger offices, and it even had his name on a plaque in front of the office. She would have made him out to be somewhere between 27 and 32.  
"Your secretary said I should come see you?" Éponine asked.  
"Yes. I'm going to show you around the ward you'll be working in. You'll be with me, in the ER. Lucky for you, you didn't get landed the graveyard shift. Here are your scrubs, your locker number is 53. Change and meet me back here in ten minutes."  
Éponine scurried down to the locker room, changing as quickly as possible. She cursed herself for forgetting to bring a lock. She scurried back up as fast as her slim legs would carry her, and was panting when she reached Dr. Joly's office with three minutes to spare. He saw her trying to catch her breath outside his office, and hurried out to her.  
"I said meet me back here in ten minutes, not run like hell is chasing you. Catch your breath, that can't be good for you."  
Éponine grinned up at her new boss. "You're the doctor. You tell me."  
Dr. Joly, who was turning out to be quite a jolly fellow, smiled. "I think I like you, Miss Thenardier. You and I are going to get along just fine."  
Éponine returned his infectious smile. "I'm glad. Shall we?"

Dr. Joly showed her around the hospital, starting with places she would be every day.  
"This is the Emergency Room. You'll spend most of your time here. Your goal here is to try to keep the patient as calm as possible before the doctor arrives. The wait here isn't usually too long, but it always depends on the day. Supply room in there," he pointed to a door marked SUPPLY ROOM.  
"I never would have guessed," Éponine said under her breath, but Dr. Joly still heard her and smirked.  
"Part of the tour, sorry. We try not to treat newbies like toddlers, but we can't always help it. This is Intensive Care. You may or may not be in here a lot, depending."  
Éponine looked around to see the one thing she couldn't stand to see: people suffering. No, that was not quite true. Not only were they suffering, but they couldn't do anything about it. They were helpless. Maybe they deserved it, maybe they didn't. Éponine didn't get to choose who to help. Everyone had to be cared for. That was the only part of her job that she didn't like. A man might come in from a sprained wrist, saying it was from some accident, but really, it was from beating his wife, and she would still have to treat him. At least back in the slums, she could help who she knew deserved it. She loved everything about what she did. Except that. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud cry of pain from someone in the ward. She winced, hoping that whatever pain that person wasn't in too much pain. They continued the rest of the tour, and Éponine tried to smile and joke as she had before, but something in her demeanor had changed. Dr. Joly pretended not to notice, but tried continually to cheer her up throughout the rest of the tour. She smiled and even chuckled at his corny jokes and puns, but no longer participated in the banter. Joly suppressed a sigh. "So it begins," he thought.

Her first day at work was surprisingly lax. She had a few injuries, but nothing to raise hell over. There was a little boy with a broken finger, a man who had accidentally put a nail through his hand, and a few others. She learned two things on her first day. The first, her college professors were right, never skimp on pain medication, because the patients will complain. The second, distracting people from their pain was easier than she had expected. People didn't want to think about being in pain, so it became part of her job to talk to the patient while the doctor was performing some unsightly test or operation that didn't require anesthetic. She didn't mind. It was often interesting to hear someone talk about their life, or their girlfriend or boyfriend, or their weird hobby. Once you found the right angle, you could get the patient to provide most of the conversation. She didn't have to do much, really, just find something that the patient would want to talk about. Dr. Joly passed by one of the rooms in the ER to see a little boy who had been in there at least twice before this year talking animatedly to Éponine about something. He couldn't hear what, but it didn't matter. Instead of shrieking and crying, he was smiling and making her laugh. Perhaps it was her charisma, or maybe she was just really good at her job. Whatever it was, she was a keeper.

She finished work at 4:00, almost disappointed that she and to leave. She looked at her phone as she put her own shirt back on. One missed call from Enjolras, and a text from Marius. She answered the text first. It read:

"how was ur 1st day at work?"

She replied, "good. u?"

He texted back immediately, like always.

"pretty good. missing ur cooking :/"

Éponine giggled and replied, "come over tonight then."

Her face lit up when she saw his reply. "can't tonight. Friday tho? can I bring the guys?"

"feel free. come by around 5:30."

"see u then."

Éponine finished dressing and dialed her voicemail. She heard Enjolras's voice come on. "Éponine, I am so sorry for my behavior last night. I don't know what I was thinking."  
A pause, and then, "I know I only met you on Saturday, but I really like your company, and I would hate for some stupid thing I did while I was drunk to drive you away. Call me." Éponine almost couldn't believe what she had just heard. She knew it must've been hell for him to to that. She could just imagine him, writing out what he was going to say, and then balling up the piece of paper and throwing it into a trash can overflowing with little balled up papers. She giggled at the mental image. She hadn't been mad at him, just surprised, really. But she knew he would keep beating himself up until she called him. So she did. He picked up on the second ring.  
"Éponine, I am so-"  
"Sorry, I know. But you don't need to be, I'm not mad." Éponine almost laughed at his fervent tone.  
"Wait...you're not?" Enjolras asked.  
"Not even a little. You don't need to apologize over and over again. You did nothing wrong."  
"I can't seem to stop apologizing to you." Éponine was surprised that he had said that out loud. It seemed like something he would've thought, but not said.  
"Well, stop. You don't need to. So far, you've done nothing that calls for an apology."  
"Nothing at all?"  
"Not a single, solitary thing." Éponine found herself suppressing giggles again.  
He huffed. "I don't know why I'm this way around you. These kinds of things don't happen around other girls."  
Éponine really did laugh this time. "What other girls?"  
"Very funny," Enjolras grumbled into the phone.  
"And true. So, you coming over Friday night?"  
Enjolras didn't reply for a moment. Then, Éponine realized how she'd sounded.  
"I'm inviting everyone over for dinner Friday. That includes you."  
She could practically hear Enjolras's relief. "Oh, yeah, of course, if you're cooking."  
"I am," she replied, "but you guys are bringing your own beer."  
"Of course. I'll pass it on. See you Friday." Enjolras hung up, thinking to himself that this week would not go by fast enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Follows, and favorites, and reviews, oh my! So I hope you guys like this chapter, because I really liked writing it. You've got some Enjolras/Éponine stuff, as well as some les Amis, so enjoy! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited! I love you all! Kisses! Xoxo

**CHAPTER SIX**

Halfway through the week, Éponine received the text that almost made her call off the party on Friday.

"can't come friday, i have a date. rain check?"

Éponine wanted to shove her phone down the garbage disposal, but refrained because the cell phone itself was expensive and had taken her months to save up for. Months of her hating herself for what she was doing. Stupid Marius, with his stupid little Barbie girlfriend. Marius had spent hours on the phone with her describing how perfect Cosette was, and how he had really found "the one" this time. It had made her want to throw up. But she still invited all his friends over, knowing, like Enjolras, they wouldn't have had a good home cooked meal in a very long time. It was 5:30 when Enjolras arrived. He was the first, and when Éponine saw him, her face involuntarily broke out into a happy grin. She reached up to hug him hello, and he returned her hug, at first awkwardly, but then sincerely.  
"Hi," he murmured into her hair.  
"Hi," she replied into his shoulder.  
When they broke apart, Enjolras found himself wanting. Wanting her body against his again. Enjolras stopped himself before his mind could run away with itself. These thoughts kept coming to him in short little bursts ever since he'd met Éponine, and he would have to learn to control them.  
"Come on in, take a seat. You changed the gauze to a Band-Aid, like I asked you to?" Éponine gave him a piercing look. Enjolras had forgotten about his injury completely.  
"Ah, haha, ummmm...yes?" Enjolras replied uncertainly.  
Éponine sighed. "Come with me." She led him out to the living room again and made him sit on the couch while she went to the bathroom to get band-aids. She came back into the room shaking her head.  
"One day I'm not going to be here to take care of you, and I don't know what you're going to do."  
Enjolras laughed. "Me neither."  
Éponine halted in her tracks. Did he just say what she thought he said? Enjolras looked up at her, puzzled. Then he realized his mistake.  
"Oh God, no, that's not what I meant. I mean, it is, but...oh God I'm sorry."  
Éponine blinked a few times before regaining her ability to speak.  
"No, no, don't apologize, it's fine, you just surprised me, that's all. No, I mean it's fine, totally fine." Éponine found herself rambling and nervously laughing, two things she didn't do often. When she realized she was doing them, she cleared her throat and sat down at the end of the couch, motioning for Enjolras to put his foot up. "Damn, when his foot gets better, I won't have an excuse to invite him over anymore," she thought. She caught herself off guard thinking this. What in the world was happening to her? Rambling, nervous laughter, and then this? It wasn't normal. Meanwhile, Enjolras was having similar problems. He didn't understand why he was saying things like that, or why he had left that message on her voicemail, or why every time he looked at her, he didn't want to look away. It wasn't like him, and it made him feel uncomfortable.  
He pulled himself out of his reverie to try to make the situation less awkward.  
"So, what are you making?"  
Éponine smiled up at him. "Jambalaya. I learned how to make it from this old Creole lady back home. The secret is an extra dash of chile powder and cumin."  
"So, you grew up in New Orleans? I know Marius went to school there, but he grew up in Southern California."  
"Yeah, it figures, doesn't it? Spoiled brat," Éponine said with a laugh. "Yeah, I grew up in New Orleans, but I grew up in the sketchy part. Gangs basically ran the part of town I grew up in. My dad joined up with one of the gangs. Said it was so they wouldn't murder us all in our sleep, and maybe at the time, that was the reason. But...life went downhill really fast. I got roped in to do some of the gang's dirty work, nothing too bad, just deliveries and stuff." Éponine surprised herself, yet again, by telling more than she had meant to. She wasn't too worried, though. She knew Enjolras would keep it to himself. She did have to stop herself from telling him the worst of it. She really genuinely liked Enjolras, and didn't want to scare him off. Enjolras was looking down at her with inquisitive eyes, as if he wanted to know more. And he did. He wanted to find out more about this girl who had come from such a low background, this girl who had come so far from where she had begun. It was amazing, really, the magnitude of her strength. When Enjolras thought of women at all, he thought of weak creatures who always needed to be taken care of. But Éponine was a different story. Enjolras knew that if anyone offered to "take care" of her, she would bristle up and probably kick them out of her house. He smirked at the thought, not thinking about the conversation. Éponine stared in shock as he smirked at her. She couldn't believe she had just told him about her "troubled past", and now he was laughing at her.  
"You think that's funny?" Éponine asked indignantly, and slightly hurt.  
"No, no, no, of course not. I was just thinking about out conversation about independence, and how you...truly don't need anyone to take care of you, do you?" It was actually a question. An offer.  
Éponine looked up at him, hope and fear combining in her chest. She loved Marius. She knew that, but with Enjolras, it was different. It was so easy, she didn't even have to think about it. They could sit up talking for hours, not even noticing the passing of time. It felt so natural, so...right. But she couldn't even think about her potential feelings for him before she knew that she was over Marius.  
"No," she answered his question, "but sometimes it would be nice."  
Enjolras's gaze burned through her, and she knew she had to tell him.  
"Marius isn't coming tonight. He has a date."  
In those few little words, she both created and destroyed Enjolras's hope. He knew that she and Marius had history, and one day, he could very well turn around and realize that she was everything he had ever wanted. He wouldn't even be able to blame Marius for it. But knowing Marius, he thought that was unlikely. And seeing Éponine in this state, he knew that she thought it too.  
"Marius is a fool." Enjolras muttered.  
Éponine smiled half-heartedly. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, clearly talking about her feelings for Marius.  
"What, your crush on Pontmercy? Yeah, it's pretty fucking obvious." He tried to sound lighthearted, but he couldn't stop himself from sounding disgruntled. Éponine did not miss his tone. She sighed.  
"I think it's something different this time. I mean, I've seen him go through lots of girls, but I don't know...I've never seen him look at a girl the way he looked at her."  
"Her?"  
Éponine launched into the tale of the supermarket fiasco. She found that Enjolras was a very good listener. She liked that. Marius had an annoying tendency to interrupt her stories, sometimes asking very unintelligent questions. Enjolras had no such habits, and Éponine thought perhaps it was Enjolras she should call next time she wanted to rant about something at four AM instead of Marius, who usually fell asleep on her anyway. She ended up telling him everything, including everything about the vicious cycle that Marius always put her through, the hope, the fresh heartbreak that never got any easier, the continuous pain he put her through without even knowing it. When she had finished her story, Enjolras looked at her pensively. Then he asked the one question she had never been able to answer even to herself.  
"If he keeps hurting you, why don't you move on? You could do so much better. You know all my friends were telling me how hot they thought you were. You could literally take your pick of any one of them." He said the last few sentences through gritted teeth, but she needed to hear them.  
"I don't know. I've thought about it, but every time I want to, I look at someone, and I just end up comparing them to Marius."  
Enjolras almost winced when she said that. Éponine saw his visible discomfort, and immediately asked, "I didn't hurt you did I?"  
"Not my foot," Enjolras wanted to say, but he refrained. He hadn't even noticed, but Éponine was almost finished taking the bandages off his foot.  
"No, you're fine," Enjolras replied. "There are guys out there who are better for you than Marius. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true." He smirked at her.  
She returned his smirk with a hesitant smile. "It doesn't sound crazy. I'm trying to get over him, I just need more distractions, that's all."  
It was too good an opportunity to pass up. It was practically an invitation.  
"Distraction, you say?" Enjolras looked at her with a gleam in his eye. Éponine looked at him warily. She realized she had nowhere to hide, now that she had finished putting on the band-aid. Enjolras put his leg down and scooted closer to Éponine. Éponine wanted to scoot away...and she didn't. Enjolras stared deeply into her chocolate brown eyes. Éponine gazed back into his blue ones.  
"He really does have gorgeous eyes," she thought.  
One of his hands circled her waist, pulling her closer to him. She couldn't escape him now, even if she wanted to. He leaned in to close the space between them...  
Just then, they heard a loud knock on the door. "Go away," Éponine thought.  
Enjolras smirked, and she realized she had said it out loud. She blushed a deep scarlet.  
"I better get that." Éponine got up against her will to answer the door. She was tempted to just call off the whole thing, but she knew that would be bad manners. Grantaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Jehan had all carpooled. They piled into her apartment, each giving her a warm hug, and in Grantaire's case, a kiss on the cheek, which made her giggle, especially when she saw Enjolras's stony glare. Not long after, Bahorel, Bossuet, and Feuilly joined them. They also gave her hugs, much to Enjolras's chagrin.  
She offered each of them beer, promising that the food was almost ready, to which she received many surprised looks, and even a, "You can cook?" from Grantaire.  
Éponine snorted. "Yes. Any more stupid questions?"  
Grantaire threw his arm around her and said, "Just one more. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"  
His friends laughed while Éponine smirked.  
"No," she replied, "but did it hurt when you got spat back out from the pits of hell?"  
A chorus of "oohs" resounded in Éponine's kitchen.  
"Oh no she didn't!" Courfeyrac said, snapping his fingers at Grantaire. Éponine laughed. She could tell it was going to be a great evening.

The boys devoured her soup like it was their life force. They even fought over the last serving, having the most intense battle of rock-paper-scissors Éponine had ever seen, not realizing the Jehan had a sneaky streak. He had managed to eat what was left in the pot while the other boys were fighting over it, to the other boys' dismay. Éponine promised the boys that they could come over whenever they wanted, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. All of their eyes' lit up as soon as she said it, causing her to add on, "Anytime within reason, that is." The boys seemed not to hear her, instead asking what she was making for dinner tomorrow night. Meanwhile, Enjolras was very quiet, but relaxed, laughing along at the others' jokes, mostly looking at Éponine. That is, when she wasn't looking at him. Sometimes, even when she was, and then she would blush and look down. Enjolras wanted so badly to walk across the room to her and take her in his arms. He knew he couldn't, but he wanted to. But he also knew that she wasn't totally unaffected by him. He didn't want to push her, though. He knew that she was still struggling with her feelings, and he didn't want to force himself on her. That, and, well, he didn't want to be just a distraction. He wanted to be more...much more. So he would wait. He would wait for her.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys so I know it's been a little while since I posted a chapter but I've been super busy, so I think I'm going to start posting only on Friday. I want thank all of my amazing readers, especially those of you who keep reviewing. YES, I do read them, and they make my heart soar! I love you all so much! Ciao till next week! Xoxo

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The party wound down. Enjolras wanted to be the last to leave, but Grantaire was giving him a run for his money. However, he was intoxicated, as always, so he had to be driven home by Combeferre. Before they left, Combeferre pulled Enjolras aside.  
"Are you planning on, you know, staying?"  
"I'm going to help Éponine clean up, if that's what you mean."  
"You know it's not."  
Enjolras sighed. Before he could reply, Combeferre interjected, "You know if there is anything you need to get off your chest-"  
Enjolras cut him off. "I will tell you. I trust you more than anyone. But as of right now, there's nothing to tell."  
Combeferre sighed. "Alright. Get home safe."  
"I will."

Enjolras stayed behind to help with the dishes. Éponine couldn't help but think that this was the first time they'd been alone together since before the party, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was going to try something, and what she would do if he did.  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Enjolras said.  
She glanced slyly at him. "Oh, my thoughts are a bit more expensive than that."  
Enjolras laughed. "Whatever the price, I'm willing to pay it." Éponine laughed along with him. Then she sobered and said, "I was just wondering...is Grantaire ever sober?"  
Her lie was smooth as silk. That's not what she was wondering, but it would have to do.  
Enjolras chuckled. He saw through her façade, but decided to play along for the time being. "He was sober during boot camp, so I've heard, but I've never seen it, so I have a hard time believing it. But that's not what you were wondering."  
Éponine just stared. She had become a good liar through experience, but she should have known Enjolras would see through her.  
"No, it's not. I was wondering about...this. About us." She said the words slowly, as though it was hard to get them out.  
"What about us?" Enjolras asked, looking as innocent as possible.  
"Don't play dumb. You were about to make a move when Grantaire, Combeferre and company got here."  
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."  
"Ugh, you're impossible," she said, and splashed him with the soapy dishwater.  
Enjolras stood there agape. "Did you just splash me?"  
Éponine giggled and nodded towards his shirt. "See for yourself."  
"Oh, you want to play like that?" Enjolras asked playfully.  
"Like what?"  
"Like THIS." With that Enjolras splashed her, and she shrieked. A huge splash war erupted in Éponine's kitchen then. They were splashing each other mercilessly, when Enjolras grabbed the hose and began spraying Éponine ruthlessly. Her screams, and his shouts, all between fits of laughter from the both of them, were probably enough to wake the neighbors, but neither cared. Éponine was trying to pry the hose from Enjolras's fingers when she noticed that her body was pressed up against his. If he would just put his arms down...He noticed her pressed up against him, no longer struggling for the hose. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and he brought his down to rest on her tiny waist. His blue eyes captivated her, trapping her in his gaze. Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. He closed the distance between them, crushing his mouth to hers. She twisted her hands in his wet hair, and the sensation of her slippery body against his was mind-blowing. "So this is what all the fuss is about," Enjolras thought.  
Éponine found herself swept away in Enjolras, her heart beating a million times per second. He pulled her closer to him, if that was even possible. His tongue slipped in between her hungry lips to explore her mouth. She responded, their tongues playing a game of chase. Éponine began pushing Enjolras towards the couch, never taking her lips off his. He pulled away reluctantly.  
"We're all wet, and there's a mess in the kitchen," he said, trying to be responsible.  
"Fuck if I care," Éponine said fiercely, trying to pull him back to her. Enjolras stopped her.  
"Also, I don't have any protection," he said regretfully.  
"Doesn't bother me."  
"It bothers me. I'm not going to risk getting you pregnant." Enjolras was putting his foot down. Éponine knew that he wasn't going to be swayed. She pouted in his arms.  
"But I want you," Éponine said, "and I know that I could change your mind if I wanted to." Éponine slid her hands down his chest slowly.  
Enjolras steeled his nerves and moved her hands upward. "I want you too. But I won't be responsible for ruining your life."  
"My life is already ruined," Éponine said, disgruntled. Enjolras lifted her chin to make her face him.  
"I know. I'm not going to inflict anything else on you if I can help it."  
"You don't need to protect me," Éponine said, freeing herself from Enjolras's embrace. "I can take care if myself."  
"I know you can. But that's not the only reason."  
Éponine looked startled. "Then why?"  
"Because I know you still have feelings for Marius. Don't deny it," he said as she was about to protest, "I know it's true. I don't want to be a distraction."  
"Enjolras, you're not just-"  
"But I am though. And I will be until you figure out your feelings. Now, I'm happy to help you do that, as your friend, " he explained, "and nothing more for the time being."  
"Enjolras," Éponine began, unsure of how to say what she wanted to say, "it's true that I do, or did, I don't know, have feelings for Marius. But while you were in the room, I didn't think of him. Not once. When you're around, how can I think of Marius? But you're right. I do need to figure out what I want. And when I do, you'll be the first to know."  
Enjolras nodded. "Good night, then Éponine. Sleep well." He leaned down and placed a light kiss on her lips.  
"Good night, Enjolras. Dream of me."  
"I have no doubt that I will." He smiled at her and got one last glimpse of her lovely smile before leaving her house.

Enjolras's drive home was anything but peaceful. His mind was full of Éponine, glorious Éponine, beautiful Éponine. He couldn't shake the thought of her body pressed against his, how perfectly their faces had fit together. He hadn't had to crane downward, and she hadn't had to stand on her toes. Like they were made for each other. But mostly, he thought about her words.

" It's true, I do, or did, I don't know, have feelings for Marius."  
"When you're around, how can I think of Marius?"  
"You don't need to protect me."  
"Dream of me."

When Enjolras got home, Combeferre was still up. He stood up when he saw Enjolras.  
"You're all wet," Combeferre observed.  
"The dish washing thing got a little out of hand," Enjolras admitted.  
"How out of hand?" Combeferre asked. Enjolras wasn't sure how to answer, but his friend interpreted his silence.  
"Ah, I see."  
"It wasn't like that, believe me. I mean, we kissed, but it didn't go further than that. I didn't even have a condom, for Christ's sake. But, Jesus, 'Ferre...it was like nothing I've ever experienced before. I can't describe it to you better than that."  
"I get that. But what about...the, uh, other factor in the Éponine equation?"  
"You mean Marius? I don't know, 'Ferre... she says she's getting over him. I want to believe her, God I do, but I don't know... can you ever recover from something like that?"  
"I suppose you can, it just takes a while. Human beings are extraordinarily resilient creatures. I'll not lie to you, though, Enjolras, it may take a while before she's emotionally stable enough to support another person in a healthy relationship. Just don't try to rush her into anything."  
"Oh trust me, it's not me who's doing the rushing." Whenever Enjolras spoke to Combeferre, he left behind his mental filter. Whatever he thought just came out.  
Combeferre looked at him in surprise.  
"She wanted to, tonight. I didn't have anything, no condom, nothing, and she still wanted to," Enjolras explained.  
"Wow. Well, she is a woman, and she does have...urges, desires, what have you. You know. Well, I guess you don't, but there it is."  
Enjolras didn't know. Well, he did now, but he hadn't before tonight.  
"I didn't want to put her at risk. It's not worth it. And...I don't want to do anything with her until she knows exactly what she wants."  
"She wants Marius...doesn't she?"  
Enjolras shook his head. "She wants to get over Marius. After that, I just don't know."  
Combeferre looked at his friend thoughtfully. Then he said, "You're a strong person, Enjolras, and a smart one. Whatever is the right thing for you, I know you'll do it."  
He knew that was his friend's polite way if saying, "don't do anything foolish that you'll regret". Enjolras climbed into bed late that night, but got little sleep. He stayed up just thinking and staring out the window at the stars, thinking of Éponine, and wondering if she was doing the same, looking at the stars, and thinking of him.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello friends! One chapter, as promised. So there's really not a whole lot of plot in this chapter, but I hope you like it. Also, if anyone feels like I may have stolen their idea, I didn't steal it. I borrowed it. Without permission. Anyway, enjoy, and don't forget to review! Xoxo

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Sunday morning, Éponine got up, planning to go to the Café Musain, maybe see Musichetta. She was the closest thing she had to a girl friend as of now. But then she remembered Enjolras. He would be there, in that tiny little café, with nowhere to hide. She wanted to see him, but she also didn't. As her friend, he wanted to help her figure out her feelings. Maybe in order to do that, she needed space. But she also really wanted to see Musichetta. She had been to the café several times since Sunday, because their pastries really were incredible, and the conversation was even better. She had found out that Musichetta's husband turned out to be Dr. Joly from the hospital. She was surprised, but pleased. She could see them together, and she could see why they made a good couple. Perhaps Musichetta would have some advice for her. She showered and dressed in a leisurely manner, as she didn't want to be there at the same time as Enjolras. She got into her car and began driving into town. On the way to the café, she passed the grocery store. "They probably have condoms. I could pop in there, stall for time, and get some. I don't want to be unprepared next time." Éponine thought to herself. She was surprised at herself for thinking this, but knew the idea was not half bad. She pulled in and tried to find the section she was looking for. When a friendly sales clerk asked if she could help Éponine find anything, she blushed and muttered, "No." She turned down an aisle and then turned very quickly back around. On the bright side, she had found what she was looking for. On the not so bright side, so had Enjolras. She peeked around the corner, and saw Enjolras browsing the condoms. Part of her wanted to run as fast as she could, but a larger part of her wanted to stay and see what size he got. She peeked around the corner again. He was holding a bottle of something that he had grabbed off the shelf. She blushed a deep cherry red when she realized what it was. "He wouldn't...would he? No, surely not him. He would have to take it to the checkout counter, and God forbid Sergeant Enjolras be seen buying lube." Thankfully, he put it back. Éponine saw that he was blushing just as badly as she had a minute ago. She was tempted to go up and say hello, and make him even more embarrassed, but then she realized he was walking toward her. Éponine bolted, speed walking back to her car, and accidentally bumping into several people along the way. She got into her car, and was about to pull out of her parking space, but she saw Enjolras walking out of the store. She didn't wait to see where he was going. She got out of that parking lot, and drove rather recklessly to the café. She saw her usual space open, so she parked and walked into the café. Musichetta gave her bright smile, and then looked at Éponine, really looked.  
"You seem a little..." Musichetta was unsure of how to finish the statement.  
"Yeah, I am." Éponine said with a small laugh. "Boy, do I have a story for you."  
Musichetta, looking intrigued, began fixing Éponine's usual vanilla latte and coffee cake.  
"I saw Enjolras at the grocery store this morning. He was buying condoms."  
Musichetta's mouth dropped open. She stood there, shocked for a moment. "Wow. I don't know what to say. I mean, do you have any idea who they're for?"  
"I assumed they were for him." Éponine smirked.  
"No, but...do you know who he wants to use them with?"  
"Yeah," Éponine said, "me."  
Musichetta looked startled for a minute. Then she began laughing hysterically. Éponine was a little offended at her reaction. "What are you laughing at? It's not funny. It's not..." But Éponine didn't finish her sentence, because it suddenly hit her how funny the whole thing was. Catching Enjolras buying condoms, which he was planning to use on her was kind of hilarious. When they both stopped laughing, Musichetta handed Éponine her latte and coffee cake and came out from behind the counter.  
"So how did we get from innocent banter to buying condoms?" Musichetta asked.  
"Well, Friday night I had some friends over, and he was one of them, but he stayed after, and we were washing dishes, and then we weren't. It's kind of hard to explain."  
Éponine smiled wryly at Musichetta when she saw the puzzled look on her face. "But when he kissed me, it just felt so good, so totally right."  
"So, you didn't do anything else?"  
"No, because we didn't have any protection. I think that's why he was buying them, so we'd be prepared for next time."  
"And when will next time be?" Musichetta asked curiously.  
Éponine hesitated before answering. "I don't know. See, before I met Enjolras, I sort of had feelings for this other guy. I don't know if you know him? His name is Marius Pontmercy."  
She looked at Éponine for a long time. "No, I don't know him, but Éponine, love can trick you in all kinds of ways. The problem with love is it doesn't care about what you want."  
"But that's the problem. I have no idea what I want." Éponine said in dismay.  
"I've been where you are, and I know it's not pretty. But falling for someone, it's not pretty or safe or easy." She paused. Then, hesitantly, she continued. "There was a time when I was in your shoes. Well, not quite, but similar. I had a boyfriend. In fact,you might know him. His name is Bossuet."  
Éponine's eyebrows shot up. She did know him.  
"I'm guessing you do know him. But he moved here with me about four years ago. I was finishing culinary school, and then he joined the Marines, so I opened up the Musain off base. A couple years back, I had a cancer scare. They caught it early, and by they, I mean Victor. Dr. Joly to you," she smiled wryly. "He was so caring and sweet, always wanting to take care of me. He doubled as a doctor and a nurse. At the time, it made me uncomfortable. I was so used to men trying to get into my pants that it almost never occurred to me that there were sweet guys out there still. But Bossuet was sweet too, just in a different way. I ended up falling for both of them."  
"The Florence Nightingale effect." Éponine said. Musichetta nodded.  
"I didn't want to lose either of them. I truly did care for them both, so we came to an...arrangement. They were so selfless, they said I didn't have to choose. I could have both of them."  
"So, you had two boyfriends?" Éponine asked, trying to make sense of things  
"I feel like boyfriend isn't a strong enough word. I was in love with both of them. They were my lovers."  
Éponine had done things that she hated herself for, but she couldn't imagine stringing two men along that way.  
"So what happened? Obviously you married Victor, so you're not still with Bahorel, right?"  
"No, it got to a point where Bossuet grew tired of sharing me. He gave me an ultimatum. It was hard, because I did truly love Bossuet, but I knew that Victor would never make me choose, that he would always put me before himself, and was willing to go through much more pain than Bossuet was to keep me. He loved me more. So I chose him."  
"So you're saying choose who wants me more? Well that's easy." Éponine joked, knowing full well that it wasn't.  
"Look, Éponine, you have two choices here. You could pursue this thing with Marius, just like you've been doing, which by the way, has gotten you nowhere, or you could have a guy who truly cares about you, and wants to be with you."  
"To add to that, Marius is dating someone. Again. I think he's really fallen for her this time. But if Enjolras is in the room, Marius doesn't even cross my mind."  
"I think that should tell you something." Musichetta said softly.  
"It does. I think I do have feelings for him, but I don't believe that people can really fall in love so fast." Éponine stopped talking abruptly. Musichetta gaped.  
"You think you're... I mean, you're in love?"  
"No! I don't know why I said that. I wasn't thinking."  
"If you said that without thinking, then it must be true. But sweetie, isn't this a little bit fast? I mean, you kind of just met him."  
"Well, I wasted four years of my life with Marius that I'll never get back. I see no point in wasting any more time than I already have."  
"I see your point," said Musichetta. "Enjolras is a great guy. I'm happy for you. Just don't do anything rash, okay?"  
"Me, do something rash?" Éponine said playfully. "Preposterous!"

Éponine's new life at Camp Pendleton fell into this pattern. Small parties at Éponine's, sometimes planned, sometimes not, in which Musichetta and Dr. Joly, who Éponine began to call Joly when not at work, became part of their circle of friends. It turned out that he was old friends from high school with Jehan and Courfeyrac. Morning visits to the Musain and late night phone conversations with Enjolras became part of her everyday life, especially the conversations with Enjolras. They would stay up talking about anything, anything at all. He came over a lot, too. Éponine found herself telling him things that she had never told anyone, not even Marius. He came around for dinner a lot. That night, they had finished dinner, and Éponine had told him that he didn't need to help with the dishes, that she would take care of them tomorrow morning. They were sitting on the couch comfortably, just talking about whatever came into their heads.  
"Why do you all go by your last names?" Éponine asked him.  
"We're used to it, that's all. It's the military thing, we're always called by our last names. People don't really bother with first names here."  
"So, can you tell me everyone's first names?" Éponine asked.  
"I can tell you everyone's except Grantaire's. He would literally shoot me."  
"I know his first initial is R, but he can't hate his name that much."  
"Oh, but he can." Enjolras had replied. "I can tell you everyone else's, just not his. So there's Michael Combeferre, Ryan Courfeyrac, Marvin Lesgles, that's Bossuet, Jean Prouvaire, that's Jehan, Stephen Feuilly, Xavier Bahorel, and of course, Marius Pontmercy."  
"You forgot the most important one," she had said, giggling.  
"Which one is that?" he asked, confused.  
"You, stupid." Éponine full on laughed at him this time and smacked him playfully.  
"Oh," Enjolras laughed at himself. "I'm Julien Adrien-Astor Enjolras." He gave her his full name.  
"I'm Éponine Genevieve Thenardier. Pleased to make your acquaintance." Éponine smiled wryly.  
"I always liked that name, Genevieve." Enjolras smiled back at her.  
"Where did your middle name come from?" she asked.  
"It was my father's name." Enjolras said coolly, as though she had brought up a touchy subject. He was no longer smiling.  
"Do you and your father not get along?" she asked. She could relate to that problem.  
"My father was hardly ever around when I was younger. He was a very high-powered lawyer, and whenever some Lithuanian ambassador's son got into trouble or something, off he'd fly again, and he'd be gone for months at a time, with a few weeks at home in between trips. He retired a few years ago, after I graduated from West Point."  
"I wish my dad had been gone for months at a time. The best I ever got was a weekend with no beatings. And that was when he came back in a good mood." Éponine shuddered at the memories of her father's beatings. Enjolras noted her silence.  
"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.  
Éponine debated telling him what had just come into her mind. She began speaking slowly, carefully.  
"I was just remembering one night, he had come back from a job that went wrong. One guy got shot, two got arrested, something like that. He was drunk, and I called him out on it. I knew it was a recipe for disaster, and also knew that he would already be angry from the screw up, and even angrier because of the drinking. I should have known better." The words began tumbling out without her even thinking now. "I got a beating that night like I'd never gotten before. He had a couple of members of his gang there with him, and even when I couldn't even stand anymore, they just kept kicking me. I still remember the gleam in their eyes that night, like they actually enjoyed it. Every time I cried out, they looked like they were having fun. Finally the kicking stopped, but it wasn't over. My father got out his old rusty knife, the one he uses to leave his mark on his victims." She pulled up her sleeve with shaky hands. To Enjolras's shock, there was a white scar, contrasting in color with her olive skin. It was in the shape of a "T".  
After Enjolras had stopped staring at the scar, he looked up at Éponine. Silent tears were streaming down her face. Wordlessly, he pulled her into his arms and just held her as she wept.


End file.
